


but you will always be mine

by 99izm



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Kissing, M/M, Orange AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 03:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12356439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99izm/pseuds/99izm
Summary: On the last day of the Produce 101 filming, Jihoon receives a letter from his future self. It sounds like a joke, but it isn't. The letter speaks of regrets, and they mainly revolve around one person: Park Woojin.Inspired by the manga series, Orange.





	but you will always be mine

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [perl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perl) for helping to give birth to this fic, the title woes and beta-ing this! I love you a lot ♡

_16 June 2017_

The first time Jihoon receives the letter is on the last day of them being in the dormitories, the last day they are trainees—the day of reckoning: whether they end up in the final line-up or not. He doesn’t know how the letter makes its way to the edge of his bed, and he’s confused when he turns to the back and it reads:

> _To, Jihoon  
>  _ _From, the future Jihoon_

It must be a prank, must be a hidden camera that Mnet has probably planned—to see how they react when sudden situations are thrown at them, to see if there are any cracks in their artificially produced personalities. A part of Jihoon is curious about the letter, wanting to get _into_ it, to find out what it really is, but Jisung-hyung’s voice rings through the dormitory at the same time: “Wake up kids!” and Jihoon knows that he should be getting ready instead.

He shoves the letter into the back pocket of his sweatpants. Perhaps, he’ll read it later.

Before Jihoon can flip the letter open, he’s swept into a flurry of non-stop rehearsals, practice, and more practice. His heart doesn’t do anything to help the situation, and in fact, the constant pitter patter makes things worst—and Jihoon doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the finals, during the actual thing.

“You know,” Woojin says as he plops down next to him. He’s sweating after doing the full routine to Hands on Me again (and Jihoon swears that he hadn’t been ogling). “You don’t have to worry about anything, right?”

“Tell that to my heart,” Jihoon snorts.

“You’ve been so stable in the rankings,” Woojin continues, in between gulps of water. Jihoon’s looking at Woojin through the sides of his eyes, and the droplets of sweat are starting to get distracting. He wants to reach out for a towel to wipe the sweat off, but his hands weigh heavily in his lap. “You’re definitely going to make it into the top 11.”

It feels like it’s because it’s Woojin who’s saying all these, that the words sound more genuine, has more _meaning_ in them. Last night, Jinyoung had approached Jihoon for a heart to talk talk. With a hug, Jinyoung was sighing about his insecurities, his fears on whether he’s going to make it—the future is blurry, and the light is flickering. Jihoon thinks that he’s starting to sound like a broken record with how he’s been reassuring the people around him, “You’re talented. Don’t worry too much.” And it’s almost ironic how it doesn’t work on himself.

“Thanks, Woojin-ah,” Jihoon smiles at the red-haired. “You too, don’t worry. You’re definitely making it in.”

Woojin smiles at him and extends a hand to ruffle his hair, but Jihoon feels the weight of his worries in the movement.

 

 

It’s during lunch time when they finally get a break and get some rest from practicing, practicing and more practicing. A part of Jihoon is tired from all the practices, feeling a bit jaded—no matter how much you practice, the public audience isn’t going to see all the hard work and effort, they’re just going to vote based off the final product anyway. But movement takes his mind off all the worries, of all the anxieties that he faces—and he thinks that it’s the same for the other 19 of them.

The letter still weighs heavily in his back pocket. It constantly reminds Jihoon that he has to find time, find space to read it and Jihoon decides to finish his lunch earlier, so he can do so. He usually takes his time with lunch, relishing in the good food but he knows that time is short, and there’s so little time left before they proceed to the next schedule. He ignores the way Woojin stares at him when he excuses himself quickly to return the food tray, but Woojin doesn’t say anything—so he heads straight for one of those private training rooms that they have.

As Jihoon is the only person in the room, it’s unbearingly quiet, and Jihoon can only hear the sound of his own heartbeat as his hands bring out the letter from behind, and he opens the letter up to read:

 

> _Hello, Jihoon_
> 
> _To my nineteen year old self, how are you?  
>  _ _I’m writing to you, from ten years into the future._
> 
> _You must think that it’s strange—why am I writing this letter to you?_   
>  _But this is important and you must understand why I’m writing this._   
>  _I’ve made some mistakes in my lifetime and I am still regretting them till this day.  
>  So that I don’t repeat my mistakes, I have written to you._
> 
> _I want you to make something happen. I don’t want the same mistakes to repeat._
> 
> _It sounds unconvincing.  
>  _ _Is this a prank, you might ask?_
> 
> _Then, let me tell you some things that will happen to you and then, you can judge for yourself._
> 
> _16 June, 2017_
> 
> _Today, it’s an important day for you. It’s the finals of Produce 101.  
>  _ _You spend the whole morning practicing, because it’s the only way you can get rid of the jitters, of the anxiety that you have because of the finals.  
>  _ _You eat faster at lunch. You don’t usually do it, but Woojin notices. You wish that he said something about it, but he didn’t._

Jihoon feels a shiver run through his spine. He would have thought that it was a prank—that someone would pop into the room any moment and yell, “It’s a hidden camera!” But nobody does that—there’s only him in the room. He knows it, knows that it’s his own chicken scratch that he’s reading and it feels perverse—how could this letter really detail everything that had transpired so far?

It has got to be a coincidence—that whatever happened so far was sheer coincidence, and it’s not that it’s _really_ from the future him. It would be ridiculous too, for the future him to really be able to document each and every event that had happened from a time that was so far away. He wants to throw the letter away, to ignore its very contents—but there’s also something that pulls him in, that he wants to find out more, that he wants to _know_ if it’s really the truth.

> _You practice for the rest of the day.  
>  _ _It’s a rare moment, but before the concert officially starts you get to see your mother again after a long time._
> 
> _Don’t worry about the finals, Jihoon._
> 
> _Take a deep breath, and perform to the best of your ability because you will do well._

He stops reading there. A part of him doesn’t want to read on, is afraid of the possibility that his future self tells him the exact sequence of events, including his rank and _everything_ that transpires. He doesn’t want to know what _exactly_ happens. It’s scary to know what the future has in stall for him even before it happens. He _can’t_. Not when people will be scrutinising his every action and reaction when the results are announced, and he has to react in a way that makes him come across to be genuine.

Jihoon folds the letter and stuffs it back into the envelope. He lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, and he tries not to crush the letter in his hands as he heads out of the practice room, to go back to group practice—to dance, sing, rap over and over again until they’re called for the real thing.

 

 

The night passes like a flurry. It’s tough and Jihoon’s reminded of the road in front of him—the hard days that are awaiting him, the adrenaline that courses through his veins from performing on stage but also, the nervousness and fear of what’s awaiting him. The hours spent are painful: memories wrecking into every inch and corner of his mind—reminding him of the time that he spent together with the rest of the trainees, how everything has culminated into _this_ moment and he tries not to let the tears fall when they’re singing Always.

Jihoon scoffs mentally at the irony of the lyrics—at how they promise _forever_ , but they aren’t forever and everything is coming to an end tonight. They aren’t going to be 60, 35, or 20 anymore— it's only going to be between 11 or 0. He hates how there are beautiful moments that he wants to keep in between the tough times and the pain. The past few months have been tough—physically and mentally—but he wouldn’t trade any of them to be standing here.

He tries to avert his gaze, focusing on the fans—the faces that he doesn't recognise. He doesn’t want to think of the people he knows: the other figures that are behind him. He doesn’t want to think of the days that he may have to spend without them, not when they have become so integral in his life. He doesn’t want to think of days without Jinyoung, Minhyun-hyung, Daehwi, Sungwoon-hyung, Seonho, Guanlin, Woojin...

The letter isn’t with him, isn’t shoved into his back pockets. It’s nestled in between the pockets of his bag, but it’s feels like it’s with him because he feels the weight remain. His heart is a nervous wreck as Representative BoA says out the names. Jihoon’s mind is blank throughout—only registering the need to congratulate his friends. There’s a vague sense of joy when he hears the names of the people who matter _so much_ to him being called out: Jinyoung, then Guanlin, then Woojin—but it also means that his heart is beating faster now because he doesn’t know—there’s the fear that his name _doesn’t_ get called.

It’s a strange feeling when his name _does_ get called. It’s a mix between happiness and anxiety —because it means that he’s in the top eleven, that he’s debuting, but there’s Daniel-hyung at his side and they’re vying for the first spot. Jihoon doesn’t want to look like the overly ambitious, the selfish one—but there _is_ a part of him that wants the top spot, wants to be the one who’s shining.

The grip that his hand on his microphone tightens, and when BoA announces, “The first place goes to… Trainee Kang Daniel”, he instinctively claps. Jihoon knows, he knows that he needs to mask the faint disappointment that he feels, the greed that he has and hide it under a mask of genuine pride that he did end up as second and he needs to sincerely congratulate Daniel-hyung for coming in first.

Perhaps, it’s a good thing that he _did_ somewhat rehearse what to say, because his mind is a blank state still when he’s asked to say his thanks, and everything passes like a blur.

It’s awkward, to be walking up the stage while stopping every now and then to hug the other successful members, to peck Guanlin on the cheek like he had promised. But when Woojin pulls him into a hug, he tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat at how tight his embrace is—and how it feels like Woojin _does_ know what he’s feeling, and is offering his reassurance, his comfort through it.

“Congratulations, Jihoon-ah,” Woojin whispers. It’s soft, gentle and it envelops Jihoon in a thick blanket of warmth. It’s different from the soft conversations that they had thus far and Jihoon doesn’t want to overthink it. “We’re debuting _together_.”

His mind tells his heart to be still, to calm down at the words. It doesn’t work, but Jihoon thinks that he has become better at acting, because he manages to control his emotions—his feelings don’t show on his face. “Thanks, Woojinnie.”

Woojin pats at the small of his back, and Jihoon thinks that Woojin _definitely_ knows—knows the hidden layers of his acting, knows his secret ambitions and that he’s somewhat, bitter at coming second. He doesn’t let go even when Guanlin tries to pull Jihoon over.

When he gets back home and he’s in the comfort of his bedroom (that he hasn’t slept in for a very _long_ time), the familiar weight of the letter is back in his hands, and he opens it. His heart is beating, and Jihoon isn’t sure if it’s from anxiousness or anticipation. The paper is thin under his fingertips, and he realises how easy it’ll be for him to crush it, for him to pretend that the letter never happened—that he shouldn’t believe in its contents.

> _You place second, Jihoon.  
>  _ _You’re slightly disappointed that you didn’t come in first. You’re ambitious, and I know you._
> 
> _Don’t beat yourself up too much about it.  
>  _ _It’s a competition: there are winner and losers. But what’s important, is the outcomes and what came out of it._
> 
> _Woojin hugs you as you’re heading to your seat and your heart beats loudly against your chest. It’s awkward, because it feels like it’s_ different.
> 
> _Let me tell you this, Jihoon-ah.  
>  __Woojin_ _is_ _different._

Wait, what?

What _is_ he trying to say? Woojin is different? He knows from the choice of words, that his future self is implying that they have a relationship beyond normal _friends_ . Jihoon doesn’t know what to think of it—he had never thought of Woojin in _that_ way, but he knows the way his heart races whenever he sees Woojin, whenever Woojin does that _one_ hip roll—but he just _never_ thought of them being _together_ before.

> _Listen to me, Jihoon-ah, no matter how surreal it sounds, no matter how ridiculous the contents of this letter may sound._   
>  _In the world that I am in, me and Woojin—we don’t end up together._   
>  _Maroo is a terrible place, and I move overseas to branch into acting. Woojin debuts in Brand New Music’s first idol group.  
>  We promise that we’ll continue to keep in touch, to stay as friends._
> 
> _But we don’t._
> 
> _We never meet again._
> 
> And I don’t want this to happen to you.  
>  _I want you to be happy.  
>  _ I don’t want you to make the same mistakes that I did. I don’t want you to live your life filled with regrets, like I did.
> 
> _You have to change it.  
>  _ _Change your future._

It’s too much for him to take in at a single go. He wishes that he could understand the desperation from the words that his future self writes, wishes that he could comprehend _why_ is it that Park Woojin mattered so much to him. It’s hard to understand a future that he hasn’t experienced, and there’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when his mother knocks on his door, a bowl of piping hot seaweed soup on a tray. She smiles at him, and he feels a part of his heart warm. It’s been so long since he last seen his mother, last had a taste of her home cooked food. A part of him misses it, but he doesn’t want to make her worry with his own problems.

“Jihoon-ah,” she sets the tray in front of him. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, and he stares straight into her eyes, hoping that it’ll convey all the sincerity and genuineness that he wants to share.

“Eat up, okay?” and this time, she reaches out to pull him into a hug again. It’s tight, and Jihoon thinks that he’s starting to choke up. He never quite realised how much he actually missed his mother, and it’s only going to get worst from now—when he’s in Wanna One, and schedules get too tight for him to meet his family. “No matter what happens, remember to eat well and stay healthy. I know you want to pursue your dream, but it’s important for you to stay healthy—that’s the only thing I want to see.”

He chokes, and feels the tears well up in his eyes but he manages to bite out a, “I will, mum.”

He can’t deny the sense of excitement and anticipation that beats within him—for the upcoming days to come, for the months to come. But there’s also the sense of fear that settles within him—the letter always comes back to haunt him whenever he thinks that he forgot about it and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if the knowledge of whatever’s about to happen is written down in pen on paper.

 

—

 

_30 June 2017_

The letters don’t depict every single day, Jihoon comes to realise. They are sporadic, and they only detail the days where there are supposedly, _important_ events that happen. Events that involve Park Woojin, and the future Jihoon wants him to know—so that he doesn’t make the same mistakes that he did.

It’s the first day of recording for Wanna One GO today, and they’re supposed to film the teaser. They’re being paired up randomly, and they have to engage in fanservice with one another. Jihoon doesn’t think much of it, not until curiosity gets the better of him, and he flips the letter open:

> _Today is the day when you film the teaser for Wanna One GO.  
>  _ _It's supposed to be fun, advertising for your variety show._
> 
> _But Woojin tries to kiss you._
> 
> _It’s hard to interpret his actions. You’re wrecked with shock at first, and you slap him away.  
>  _ _It’s alright to do that, but please don’t ignore the gaze in his eyes.  
>  _ _It seems like Woojin’s joking with you, that he’s doing it for fun but a part of him is genuine about it._
> 
> _You don’t have to do anything this time, Jihoon-ah._
> 
> _But please,_ please, _recognise Woojin’s affections for you._

After reading the letter, he can’t help but feel the remnants of a bitter aftertaste being lodged in his throat. It’s hard to imagine that Woojin _likes_ him, beyond the means of friends—something more intimate, and something more private. It’s hard for him to wrap his mind around the concept. Not when Woojin hadn’t done anything after their hug during the final.

In fact, it was like the hug had never happened, because they interact with each other plainly, just like how they used to. Friendly bantering, light punches shared between them, and the rest of the members don’t even bat an eyelash when they see the overly dramatic exchanges between them.

The camera’s on them, but Jihoon finds it hard to take his eyes off Woojin. He wishes that he was a telepath, or even an empath—just so he would be able to tell what Woojin is thinking about, without having to resort to gross assumptions. Jihoon wants to trust the contents of the letter, but it’s hard because it’s from a man from the future, who he doesn’t even know.

He tries to ignore the way his heart beats when the PD announces that it’s his turn with Woojin. He bites at the bottom of his lip, praying that it helps to settle his racing heart, but it does little to do so—and it doesn’t prepare him for the moment where he senses Woojin’s own lips inching closer towards his.

“What,” Jihoon yells, and his hands are flying up faster than he can control—and he slaps Woojin lightly on his face. “What, what, _what.”_ And Woojin’s still trying to plant the kiss on his cheeks. Jihoon can hear the vague sounds of Guanlin laughing at the back, but he manages to get off the chair and run away from Woojin.

“He was really going to kiss me,” Jihoon didn’t realise that he actually voiced his thoughts aloud. “It was genuine…”

Sungwoon-hyung merely reminds him, “It’s a reality, reality.”

He does remember what the letter tells him, and Jihoon does turn to look at Woojin, who’s wiping his hands on his pants. He sees the way Woojin bites at his lower lip, sees the glint in his eyes that tell him that he’s somewhat hurt, but he’s trying to mask it as a joke.

He swallows a breath that he never knew that he was holding, and Jihoon wonders, why is his heart hurting so much?

 

—

 

_30 September 2017_

There’s a brief pause in the dates after the filming of the Wanna One GO teaser. At first, Jihoon is confused but when he experiences the days for himself, he realises the reason why: because there aren’t any moments that Woojin and Jihoon experience alone, experience _together_ when they are swept into a flurry of promotions. It’s hard for Jihoon to even get _minutes_ of shut eye -  much more, get moments to spend together with Woojin.

Even during their free day, Woojin’s closed off to him. He’s watching dramas, and Jihoon can’t bring himself to interrupt, so he heads over to Daniel-hyung’s room and demand that they play games instead.

He hates how his heart is treacherous, hates the way it beats so rapidly even though he wants to convince himself that he isn’t in love with Park Woojin. It’s hard to convince yourself about something that your heart wants, Jihoon realises, and he finds himself wishing, with each passing day, that _something_ would happen, that another date that is depicted by the letter would arrive and that he’d get an opportunity to be with Woojin. 

> _Today, you are slated to perform at the 2017 Korea Music Festival and the Fever Festival.  
>  _ _It’s also the day of Brand New Music CEO’s Rhymer’s wedding so Daehwi and Woojin are slated to head to the venue after the end of the Korea Music Festival.  
>  _ _They manage to come back in time to perform for the Fever Festival._
> 
> _Daehwi injures himself, and the YMC will release a press report that says that they sent him to the hospital. They don’t, because you have to take photographs with a bunch of “important people.” Make sure that Daehwi gets treatment._

From the very moment that they were informed that they had to perform at two different festivals, there was an atmosphere of worry and concern—how were they going to pull it off? And then, there’s also Rhymer-hyung’s wedding. It sounded like an impossible task: to move consecutively to three different venues, and Jihoon’s heart aches a little at the thought of Daehwi getting injured.

Jihoon knows that YMC Entertainment is terrible at management, from the way he, Minhyun-hyung and Daniel-hyung had been pushed at variety shows more often than the rest, even though everyone knows that Seongwoo-hyung and Woojin would excel at varieties. It leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth to know that YMC continues to be a crappy company—and that catering to “important people” is more important than an injured Daehwi.

He bites at the bottom of his lip, and he continues to read:

> _Towards the end of your performance, however, Woojin comes to stop you from heading to where Daniel-hyung is._   
>  _He grabs your hand, and pulls you closer and wraps an arm on your shoulder._   
>  _His touch is like fire, and it dances at the edges of your skin._
> 
> _Jihoon-ah, it’s not the first time that Woojin had expressed his interest in you so explicitly.  
>  _ _You have to be the one to take the first step, because Woojin would never._
> 
> _Do it, Jihoon-ah.  
>  _ _Don’t live a life with regrets.  
>  _ _Don’t become like me._

Jihoon manages to finish reading the letter before they head out of the dormitory for the performances. A part of him wants to tell Daehwi and Woojin to not rush back for the Fever Festival performance, to stay in the safety zone that is Rhymer-hyung’s wedding, but who is he kidding? He knows that he’s powerless in front of YMC, and the management. What is he going to say to convince them? “ _Daehwi’s going to be injured, and we can’t let that happen?_ ” Jihoon scoffs at the very thought of that—he knows that there’s no way that YMC would even _believe_ him.

He doesn’t want Daehwi to be injured, his heart feels like it’s being torn apart at the very thought of that—but he remembers how the letter tells him that Woojin will hold him, wrap his arm around his waist and he _wants_ that. He hates how he’s growing feelings for a person who he can’t read, and how they are so near and yet, so far. It’s like they could get together already, but both of them are afraid to take the first step forward.

Jihoon is a wimp, and he knows it because he doesn’t say anything: not when they are in the van, not when they are waiting to perform at the Korea Music Festival, not when Daehwi and Woojin leave in another van for the wedding. He bites at his lower lip, and he feels the guilt starting to kick in—that he could have done something to prevent Daehwi from becoming injured, but he _didn’t._

 

 

It’s in the middle of their Nayana performance when Daehwi’s mic pack shatters, and pieces of it cut the side of Daehwi’s ear and he’s bleeding. The bleeding is intense, considering how _small_ the mic pack is; and he frowns internally when he sees Daehwi continue to perform on the stage even though he’s bleeding, and Guanlin and Woojin are staring intently at him—a silent plea, “Go backstage. Stop performing. You’re _hurt_.”

As they’re walking to the center stage, Woojin does manage to convince Daehwi to head backstage and he does. The performance continues, as if Daehwi isn’t missing; and time passes like a blur and he doesn’t actually comprehend the moment where Woojin pulls him away, and wraps a hand around his shoulder and they are waving at the audience together.

His touch is like fire that dances on the edges of his skin, and Jihoon thinks that the adrenaline that courses through his veins isn’t from performing but it’s from Park Woojin. He doesn’t want to look at Woojin—doesn’t want to meet his eyes because his eyes are _always_ so treacherous and Jihoon never knows what Woojin is really thinking. Jihoon thinks that Woojin is _really_ like a cat, because sometimes, he makes Jihoon feel so hopeful that they are something beyond friends but the next moment, he’s distancing himself and it’s almost like nothing had transpired between them. He never knew how horrible it was to receive mixed signals, not until now, not until it’s actually happening to him.

 

 

“Daehwi-ah, are you okay?” Woojin’s the first to ask once they are backstage, and the other staff members are pressing towels to Daehwi’s ear where it’s bleeding.

Jihoon sees the single splotch of blood that remains on Daehwi’s shirt, and he feels the adrenaline from what happened together with Woojin fade like fireworks and he feels suffocated with all the guilt of having the prior knowledge that _this_ was going to happen.

The other members are crowding around Daehwi too, and Jihoon’s heart winces again when he sees the look of sheer pain in Jinyoung’s eyes. Daehwi shakes his head, and he offers them a bright smile, and it’s horrible—just _horrible,_ how Daehwi’s still smiling, “Don’t worry, hyungs. I’m fine! It’s just a small scratch.”

“Bullshit. You’re still fucking bleeding,” Woojin growls, and it’s like he had forgotten that they aren’t in the comforts of a private area, that it wouldn’t be good for _anyone_ to hear him swear. Minhyun-hyung whispers a soft “Language, Woojin-ah. Language,” while he pats at Woojin’s back—but it doesn’t sound like he’s scolding Woojin. “You’ve been bleeding a whole _lot_ and you say that you’re _fine?_ ”

“Hyung, it’s really okay,” Daehwi tries to avert his gaze. “Don’t worry so much. You’re going to get wrinkles.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Woojin sighs. “We’re going to the hospital _now_.”

“I hate to break the news,” Jisung-hyung’s voice is loud and clear, but there’s also that tone of reluctance in it—that he doesn’t want to say what he has to say. “But we’re supposed to take some photographs together with some _important people_ , so they can’t bring us to the hospital yet.”

“What? ” Jinyoung’s the one who yells this time. “This is _bullshit._ Daehwi’s been bleeding for ages—you don’t even know if he’s going to be getting an infection!”

“I know, I know,” Jisung-hyung looks like he’s on the verge of crying. It’s tears of frustration—at his inability to do anything in this situation. “But we can’t run to the hospital or anything—the media will find out and then we’re dead.”

Jihoon bites at his lower lip, and he resists the urge to cry.

 

—

 

_3 October 2017_

> _Today, you are at the airport to head to Hong Kong.  
>  _ _At first, it doesn’t seem like anything will happen._
> 
> _But, as you’re fixing your hair outside, Woojin’s looking at you and he pushes your hand away to fix your hair.  
>  _ _It_ should _mean nothing, but you see the adoration in his eyes._
> 
> _Jihoon-ah, please._
> 
> _You have to do something.  
>  _ _Take the first step._
> 
> _If not, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, like how I did._

Jihoon closes the letter and places it back into the envelope, and he puts it inside of the deepest pockets in his bag. He doesn’t want anyone to take a look at it—not when it’s something that feels so personal, not when it’s something that he thinks only _he_ should see.

They do get closer to each other: he and Woojin. But it’s hard for him to take the first step, like how the letter tells him to when he can’t even predict what Woojin’s going to do. One moment, he’s threading his fingers into Jihoon’s hair when they are watching a movie with the rest of the members, and he’s lying in Woojin’s lap. But the next moment, those fingers are out of his hair, jerking back, as if Jihoon’s some sort of virus that he doesn’t want to be infected with.

It’s frustrating—the way Woojin leads him on, but then he’s throwing him off the flowery path, and Jihoon starts to find it increasingly difficult to understand him. If only he looked at Woojin as they were friends, if only Woojin was actually consistent with his actions. His thoughts are loud, and they ring in his head (and he misses the way Daehwi’s been staring at him with a thoughtful gaze.)

The wind outside the Incheon Airport is strong, and it messes his hair. Jihoon knows that his fringe has been growing faster than he would like it to, but he’s an idol—and he doesn’t get reign over his fringe. His coordi, his stylist does. He makes the notion to fix his hair, and a part of him expects Woojin to act like what the letter said—looking at him with an unreadable expression, hand shoving his own arm away to fix his hair.

But Woojin doesn’t do that.

Jihoon’s struck with a moment of confusion. It’s the first time that the contents of the letter didn’t come true. It has _always_ been true, the scenes unfolding just as how he read them, just as how he imagined them to. Even though he has been reading the letters faithfully since Day One, Jihoon only realises it now that he hadn’t actually done anything different from what the letter told him to do. He merely observed the events unfold, and took a greater amount of effort to comprehend, and see the way Woojin gazes at him, the way Woojin touches him for himself.

He swallows the lump in his throat, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to say the next few words that escape from his lips. “Yah, Woojin-ah, fix my hair for me.”

“What?” Woojin’s eyes widen slightly. It’s the same expression that Woojin always wears whenever he’s shocked.

“I said,” Jihoon blows upwards, at his fringe for emphasis. “Help me fix my fringe.” But when Woojin doesn’t react, he adds, “It’s hard for me to see what’s wrong with it without a mirror.”

“Oh,” Woojin blinks. “Alright.”

His touch is gentle, like how the morning dew falls on the petals of flowers in the breaking moments of dawn. Jihoon didn’t quite realise how intimate the moment is, not until Woojin’s actually fixing the stray strands of hair, and he touches Jihoon like he’s afraid of breaking him. He feels his own heart skip a beat, even though he’s the one who asked Woojin to do it.

He remembers to look at Woojin’s eyes, to see if there’s still that lingering affection in them. He looks up slightly, and through his own eyelashes, he sees that gaze—one of absolute gentleness and sweetness and Jihoon knows that it’s definitely a gaze that speaks of nothing but _love_.

“There you go,” Woojin wears a proud smile on his face.

“Thanks,” and Jihoon averts his gaze because he can feel the heat on his cheeks.

—

 

_7 October 2017_

> _It’s the first day of the Taiwanese fan meet.  
>  _ _It’s nice, because you get a bit of a break because Guanlin’s family comes down to visit. You get treated to local food, and it’s really tasty._
> 
> _At the fan meet, Woojin and you are tasked to dance to Pick Me._   
>  _It’s always Woojin who takes the first step when you have to do something ridiculous, he leads you into dancing with him. It’s a slow dance, and it’s painfully romantic.  
>  Relish in that moment, Jihoon-ah._
> 
> _And don’t let go._
> 
> _If you do, you will regret it.  
>  _ _And I don’t want you to end like me._

Jihoon swears that he’s on a diet, but it’s hard to resist the good food that was prepared by the Taiwanese fans. Guanlin’s family visit them backstage, and brings along with them bottles of herbal tea, saying that it’s good for their tired bodies. Jihoon has never been a fan of herbal tea, but it’s hard to say no to the goodness of people, especially when they’re Guanlin’s family. So he accepts them with the smile, and makes sure to drink the tea. It’s bitter, but there’s a certain sweetness to it, and he attributes it to the fact that it’s from Guanlin’s family.

It’s during the random play dance in the fanmeet when Pick Me comes on, and he and Woojin are the ones who have to dance to it. He’s about to break into the actual Pick Me dance, but Woojin’s looking at him. He thinks that he’s weak because he gets drawn into the flow, pulled into Woojin’s own rhythm—and then they are holding hands, Woojin’s hand is on the small of his back and they are _dancing_.

It isn’t the dancing that he’s used to. Not popping nor locking, but rather, it resembles ballroom dancing and it just stabs at Jihoon’s heart with the romantic nuances attached to it. He tries not to think too much into it, and before he even realises it, his own palm is settling against Woojin’s back.

Jihoon can feel the way Woojin’s heart is beating. He hears the fans scream even through his in ears, but the sound of Woojin’s heartbeat is louder. There’s that staccato to the beat, and Jihoon tries to convince himself that it isn’t because of him. It’s the adrenaline that is flowing within them, the same adrenaline that all of them have when they are performing in front of such a large audience.

He feels like he’s taking a rollercoaster ride, and Woojin’s by his side as the carriage slowly moves up the track. There’s a brief moment of respite as Jihoon avoids his eyes—and then the drop comes suddenly, as Woojin jerks away from him. He feels like he’s being played with, that Woojin can do anything he likes with him and Jihoon can do nothing but accept it.

He swallows the lump that was beginning to build in his throat, and he sees the rest of the members cheer at their performance; and he laughs, because it’s always easier to brush things away with a laugh.

 

 

The good thing about the overseas fan meet is how they get separate rooms.

It’s hard for him to think about the letters, to think about his feelings for Woojin back in the dormitory. They are in the same room, and Jihoon thinks that it gets suffocating. But then, the doorbell rings and his moment of serenity is broken and he rushes to answer the door—just in case it’s a staff member who’s relaying an important message.

It’s Daehwi at the door, and Jihoon _is_ surprised. They are close, but Daehwi had never approached him alone before (well, not without Jinyoung.) “Hyung, do you mind talking for a while?”

“Sure,” Jihoon opens the door wider and scoots over to the side so that Daehwi can slip into his room. The door closes with a rather loud slam, and the silence feels deafening.

Daehwi walks over and sits down on his bed, and Jihoon didn’t actually realise that he had left his letters lying on it. The words “From, the future you” is written at the bottom of the envelope, and he feels his heart thumping so hard and loud against his chest when he watches Daehwi take a glimpse of the envelope and his eyes widening when he reads the words.

“W-wait, hyung,” Daehwi stammers. It’s not like Daehwi to stammer, not when he has always been about confidence to Jihoon. “You get these letters too?

It’s a shock to him and his mind is blank. He never expected Daehwi to know about the letters, to find out about thing in such a way, but most importantly, he _never_ expected Daehwi to say it in a way that it sounds like he receives these letters _too._ “Daehwi, don’t tell me… you get them too?”

He watches the way Daehwi swallow, and he nods slowly. “I’ve been getting them since the last day of the Produce 101 finals.”

“Me too,” Jihoon manages to reply. “I thought I was the only one getting them… but Daehwi, _you too?_ ”

“I thought I was the only one too,” Daehwi looks at Jihoon’s letters that are now in his hands. “I couldn’t tell anyone, not when it sounds so ridiculous.”

“I know,” and Jihoon walks to the edge of his own bed and envelopes Daehwi into a hug.

Daehwi gives him a hug back, and when they pull back, Daehwi’s the first to talk. “But this isn’t what I was here for, hyung.”

Jihoon looks at him, motioning to him carry on. It takes a moment before Daehwi does open his mouth to talk, and it feels like it’s going to be a heavy topic from the way Daehwi slowly blinks, like he’s afraid to speak.

“I wanted to ask you,” Daehwi exhales. “Do you like Woojin-hyung?”

The answer is sitting at the tip of his tongue, but Jihoon’s suddenly wrecked with hesitation and fear. It’s one thing to be aware of his own feelings, but it’s another thing to actually vocalise it—and he doesn’t know what Daehwi’s going to react. It’s hard for him to say the words that have been bottling up within him, even though he knows that his feelings are _real_ and he wants to lift that weight over his heart. His mind is swarming with thoughts: _just say it, don’t say it, SAY IT, DON’T SAY ANYTHING, JUST FUCKING SA_ —and he takes a final breath and he manages to bite out, “I do. I really like him.”

“If you do like him, hyung,” Daehwi’s voice is soft and gentle as he takes Jihoon’s hands into his own. “Please tell him. _Please.”_

There’s that hint of desperation that’s evident in Daehwi’s voice, albeit how soft it sounds and it makes Jihoon afraid. He knows that the answer lies in the letters—those letters that warn them about the terrible events that are to happen in the future, and caution them of the steps that they should take to stop those events. Jihoon wants to know, wants to know _what_ is it that makes Daehwi sound like that, sound like a person he doesn’t know.

“Why?” He prods. “What happens if I don’t?”

Daehwi tears his gaze away for a moment and when he looks back at Jihoon, his eyes are wet and the tears are threatening to fall. “Hyung, h-he isn’t the same anymore.”

“My letter tells me that you reject him, hyung,” Daehwi takes a while to say everything as he gasps in between his sobs, and Jihoon tries to wipe away the tears as they fall. “And hyung, he’s sad. He becomes a shell of nothing but sadness, and no matter what I do, no matter what Donghyun-hyung and Youngmin-hyung do—nothing we do helps him.”

“Hyung, you leave South Korea because you delve into acting instead. You drift away from Woojin-hyung and it tears him apart, because you guys never see each other again.”

“So, hyung,” Daehwi looks up and he’s staring straight into Jihoon’s eyes. And Jihoon feels a part of him break into pieces at the red-rimmed and teary eyes. “Please, _please_ tell him that you love him, tell him what your feelings for him are. I can’t bear to see a future where hyung is perpetually sad, I _can’t_.”

Jihoon wishes that he’s a stronger person so that he can confidently tell Daehwi, “Yes. I won’t make him sad again,” but he can’t even bring himself to say the words to Woojin’s face. He can’t bring himself to make promises that he can’t keep, and whenever he thinks about confessing to Woojin, it feels like he’s falling from the cliff and there’s no one there to catch him.

He doesn’t know where the sudden burst of courage comes from, but he’s thankful for it because he manages to say, “But I’m scared, Daehwi-ah.”

“I’m scared that Woojin doesn’t like me the way I like him,” and now, Jihoon knows that he’s the one who’s beginning to tear up. He feels a lump settle in his throat, and he tries to will the tears back, but it’s nothing but futility. “It’s hard, you know, Daehwi-ah. I can’t tell what Woojin’s thinking. One moment, he’s the one who’s initiating the skinship with me, and then, the next moment, he jerks away from me. It’s painful—to be so hopeful, to think that he does like me back when he lifts me up, and then I’m falling.”

“Hyung, are you stupid?”

“What?”

“Have you not seen the way Woojin-hyung looks at you? He looks at you like you’re the only person that brightens up his world,” Daehwi laughs, and there’s something _sad_ about it. “Me, Youngmin-hyung, Donghyun-hyung—we’ve known him for so long, but he has never smiled at us, never laughed the same way as he does whenever you’re with him. I don’t know how you think Woojin-hyung looks at you, but he _adores_ you. We all know that he does.”

“And hyung, do you know why he initiates the skinship and then he jumps back?” Jihoon shakes his head, and Daehwi does the same. But Daehwi’s one reminds him of the way he didn’t finish all his water in his water bottle when he was young, and his mother shook her head in disappointment. “He’s afraid too. He’s scared that you don’t like him back too. That’s why he initiates the skinship first, because he _wants_ it, but hyung, because you don’t say anything, it makes him think that you don’t like him back. And the last thing that Woojin-hyung wants is you _avoiding_ him because you don’t look at him in the same way.”

“Woojin-hyung won’t do anything,” and Daehwi’s holding onto his hands, as if he could transfer some courage into Jihoon’s own soul. “So, Jihoon-hyung, you _have_ to be the one to take the first step.”

“It’s hard, it’s _so_ hard, Daehwi-ah.”

“I know,” Daehwi squeezes his hands. “But you have to do it. We receive the letters because we’re meant to do something about it, to prevent it from occurring. You have do something, so that the future doesn’t turn out the way it’s meant to.”

“I’ll try. I really will.”

“I know you will, hyung. And I have your back.”

 

—

 

_8 October 2017_

When Jihoon wakes up in the morning, he turns to face the side table’s mirror and he promises himself, “I will confess to Woojin today.”

Reading the letters have become somewhat, a routine that incorporated itself into his life, and he finds himself reaching for the envelope, before he’s whisked away for rehearsals. He can feel the low rumbling of his stomach, as if butterflies had manifested in them and he doesn’t know why, but he’s afraid to read—fearful of the future, fearful that something would occur that would prevent him from making things _right_.

“Here goes,” he whispers to himself, and he thinks of Daehwi’s sincerity, the weight of his lithe hands on his own and he feels part of Daehwi’s courage seep into him.

> _It’s the second day of the Taiwanese fan meet.  
>  _ _It’s during Always when Woojin extends a hand out, beckoning you to hold it._
> 
> _Jihoon, you have to take his hand.  
>  _ _Take his hand, and never let go._
> 
> _And Jihoon, this is the day where you_ have to take action.  
>  _When you’re safely back in your hotel, head to Woojin’s room.  
>  _ Kiss him.
> 
> Your biggest regret will be seeing him then, and not kissing him.  
>  _Your biggest regret will be having him for so long but never doing anything.  
>  _ _You know how he looks at you. You know he’s in love with you.  
>  _ You don’t have anything to lose, Jihoon-ah.
> 
> _Not when the future ahead is scarier than this._

He doesn’t realise the moment when his tears had started to well up in his eyes, but when he puts down the letter, he’s crying and his heart feels like it has just been ripped into shreds.

It’s painful to think of his future self: living in a world without Woojin, living in a time where he can’t do anything about his regrets. He’s reminded of the fragility of decisions—how something seemingly insignificant changes the path of the future _forever_ . Jihoon doesn’t want to imagine, doesn’t want to know what happens after today— _what happens if he doesn’t confess today_?

He raises his hand up to wipe the tears away, and he hopes that his eyes don’t appear swollen.

 

 

Just like what the letter had wrote, Woojin does turn to look at him when the chorus hits. The voices of the fans are loud, and it stings at his eyes when he hears the melody of their singing.

 _Let’s hold hands like just now_ , and he can see Woojin from the corner of his eyes. The way his palm is flat against the cloth of his jeans, the way his fingers open and close—and Jihoon thinks that he knows what Woojin is thinking about. It is hesitation, and he doesn’t know if he should take the first step.

Daehwi’s voice becomes like white noise, and the words _Let’s stay together like the word, forever_ fades into the background as he meets eyes with Woojin, and he sees the way Woojin’s extending his hand, beckoning for him to take it.

He knows that this was going to happen all along, the letters are never wrong, and he knows that he doesn’t want to leave any regrets behind. So, he takes hold of Woojin’s hand, and he feels the warmth and lingering sweat as Woojin clasps their hands together. He doesn’t realise when his hands move faster than his brain, and then, his thumb is brushing against the softness of Woojin’s hand and he can’t help the smile from tugging at the corners of his lips.

Wanna One isn’t going to be forever, but Jihoon wants _them_ to be forever.

 

 

The fan meeting is a success and tonight is different from the last, because Guanlin’s parents treat them to dinner. They’re at Guanlin’s house and the food on the table is a mix of home cooked food and food that look like off the street take-out. But judging from the way Guanlin’s eyes light up, how he enthusiastically waves everyone over and the way he slurs his Korean, Jihoon can tell that it's all his favourite dishes.

He knows that Guanlin does adore him, but the way he’s been piling up food on his plate is ridiculous, and he says, “Guanlin-ah, please eat too.”

Guanlin smiles at him and there’s a mysteriously mature glint in his eyes, even though his voice is bright when he says, “Hyung, I will. But you definitely have to eat these.”

“Of course,” Jihoon can’t help but smile at the way Guanlin’s smiling at him, and he pops the piece of fried chicken into his mouth. It _is_ really good. The outer layer of fried skin is still warm, and there’s just something that’s so appealing, so appetising about the fried chicken. And this is why he’s definitely genuine when he tells Guanlin, “It’s really good.”

Guanlin lights up and he shifts his target to the person next to him. It’s Jinyoung and soon, Jinyoung’s own bowl of rice resembles his. He can’t help but laugh at how Jinyoung’s eyes widened, waving his hands in the air, “I can’t finish all that!”

Jisung-hyung’s voice resonates in the air, “You have to finish them all, Jinyoung-ah.”

The rest of the hyungs nod their heads in unison, and Jihoon thinks that they’re doing so only because their bowls aren’t filled with so much food, like how his and Jinyoung’s are. He turns to his side, where Woojin’s sitting and he smirks. It’s not fair that only his and Jinyoung’s bowls are full, ain’t it?

Woojin shakes his head fervently, as if he can predict what’s going to happen next. “No, no, _no,_ Jihoon-ah, you’re _not_ giving me so much food.”

But his chopsticks are already on the fish, and then the vegetables and then the meat and Woojin groans as he watches the amount of food on his bowl grow. It’s a domino effect, and everyone grabs more food for the people next to them, but everyone’s laughing and eating the food without complaining, and Jihoon thinks, _it feels like_ _family_.

 

 

It’s past midnight when they arrive back at the hotel, and it’s only several more hours before they are whisked back on another airplane ride to South Korea. Plane rides used to be so exciting, but they have now become one of the rare moments when he gets some shut eye (albeit, there are times where the sasaeng fans are near and he just wishes they could sense their distress and stop.)

He hopes that Woojin’s still awake as he makes his way down the corridor to Woojin’s room. He has everything that he wanted to say planned out already, and the only thing left for Jihoon to do is to actually say what he wants to say to the person who means the most. The hotel is silent at this time of the night, and the walk down the corridor feels so long and he feels the anxiety pile up like bricks. He hopes that Woojin’s still awake, that he hasn’t knocked out from the busy day, yet.

 _6011_ , the number on the door reads and Jihoon’s hand falter before he can press the doorbell. He knows that his hands are shaking and he wishes that there was some sort of sure-fire method that could calm his nerves, and then he’d be alright. But there isn’t, and he’s still shaking so badly that it actually causes his fingers to land on the doorbell. _Shit_.

The door opens to reveal Woojin, in nothing but a bathrobe and his hair is still dripping wet. Jihoon thinks that the can still see a layer of water, from the way the lights in the room and shining off him and it’s distracting—so incredibly distracting that Jihoon can’t vocalise the words that he wanted to say.

“What’s up?”

How can Woojin still stay so incredibly calm even at a time like this? Jihoon feels like his own heart is beating so rapidly against his chest, like it’s threatening to fall out and Woojin’s just standing in front of him, like he’s in _nothing_ but a bathrobe. He clenches his fists by his sides, and he tries to pretend that he isn’t affected, doesn’t feel anything about the way Woojin’s dressed in front of him.

Being with Woojin is always about fun banter and jokes, so he tries to act like how he usually does and he says, “What? You aren’t going to invite me in first?” He leans in closer, and he doesn’t realise how _close_ he had actually leaned in—that his face is beneath Woojin’s own, and he can feel the residual warmth from the shower emanate from him. “You want to show everyone else in the corridor what you’re wearing now?”

Woojin flushes red, but he’s quick to regain his senses as he slaps Jihoon’s forehead. “Don’t be stupid, come in.”

Jihoon walks in, and Woojin closes the door behind him and he knows that he has to say it. There is only the two of them in the room, and he _has_ to be the first one to take the first step, so that he doesn’t leave anymore regrets for the future him.

“I have something to tell you,” Jihoon says after he settles himself on Woojin’s bed. It’s hard for him to meet Woojin’s own eyes, not when he _looks_ distracting and the fact that it’s taking everything out of him to actually prepare himself to confess to Woojin.

“What is it?” Woojin’s voice is soft and gentle, and he’s suddenly very near to Jihoon and he can feel the bed sink in from Woojin’s weight.

He takes a deep breath, but it’s hard to muster out the courage to say something when there’s so much anxiety and fear that's wracking through his brain. Jihoon had never been the one to confess to someone else, not when it had always been girls who were rushing to confess to him at rooftops, or hidden corridors in school. He never knew what it was like to be the one to wear their feelings on their sleeve, and now that he’s the one who’s preparing himself to do it, he doesn’t actually know how those girls had done that, without wanting the floor to swallow them from beneath.

It’s hard to say out the words that are lying at the tip of his tongue. They are begging to be released, to be let out in the uncertain future where he can’t predict Woojin’s reaction, no matter how much Daehwi had tried to convince him that Woojin _does_ like him back. There’s so much constancy in friendship, and Jihoon doesn’t want to rely on those hopeful moments only to come tumbling down.

He takes in another deep breath, and this time, he raises his head to look straight into Woojin’s eyes. “I really like you, Park Woojin.”

It’s a sight to behold. Woojin’s eyes flit to avert his gaze, as if Jihoon’s own steely gaze is like fire that burns within him, that sees through every fibre of his soul. The tips of his ears turn red, and there’s also a flush that begins to grow upwards from his neck. He looks like he never expected this to happen, and when Woojin turns back to look at him again, there are tears that are beginning to fall.

It takes Jihoon by surprise, and he’s panicking. What if Woojin’s crying because he doesn’t like him back? What if he’s crying because he doesn’t know how to reject Jihoon? His thoughts are flying so rapidly and quickly, and he doesn’t know what else to do except dart his eyes around to look for a tissue box. But there aren’t any that he can see, so he wipes at the corner of Woojin’s eyes with his hands, “Don’t cry… I didn’t mean for you to cry. It’s okay even if you don’t like me. I just wanted to tell you that I really _like_ you, and it’s not just as a _friend._ ”

Woojin laughs, and it should be funny from the way he’s sniffing but it’s Wooijin. And Jihoon likes _all_ of him. “You’re stupid.”

“What?”

“Can’t you tell—” Woojin takes a particularly loud and harsh sniff. “—that I like you too?”

When Jihoon doesn’t respond because his mind is too busy repeating the words that have just been uttered by Woojin, Woojin continues. “I have always liked you, Park Jihoon. From the moment you stepped up to perform on stage, from the moment that you were the first one to approach me because you heard that I was born in the same year as you and I was still so painfully shy.”

“It’s so hard, it was so hard for me to suppress everything because I was afraid that you didn’t like me and then I was haunted by words and thoughts that told me that we would never stand a chance together and I couldn’t muster the courage to confess to you.”

“Do you know how radiant you are, Park Jihoon?” Woojin asks, and he has a single hand caressing Jihoon’s own cheek. “You’re like the fucking sun in my life, and I can’t help but always be drawn to you. And that’s why I can’t help but touch you, want to be the one who initiates all that skinship with you—but I think of how you might hate being with me, so I jerk back.”

“But I really love you. With all of me,” and Woojin is close, and he feels Woojin pressing his own forehead against his. “And I’m thankful, I’m so happy to know that you like me too.”

“You’re the stupid one,” Jihoon scoffs gently. “You’re stupid to think that I’d never like you back.”

“Easy for you to say when your head isn't being taunted by such thoughts.”

Woojin pulls back, and then there’s silence that washes onto the both of them. It’s a pregnant pause, like those scenes in movies where everything suddenly goes into slow motion, the background blurs and the only thing that Jihoon can register is Park Woojin who’s sitting in front of him, the drip drop of his wet hair and the way his touch feels so warm and enveloping, filled with love and affection on his skin.

They inch closer to each other, like magnets being pulled by the forces of attraction but they pause before their lips can touch. Jihoon can’t believe that this is happening, that the both of them pause at the same moment. They are so close, but yet so far and a part of Jihoon is annoyed. “When are you going to kiss me, stupid?”

Woojin laughs at him, “Oh? So you wanted me to kiss you?”

“Fine!” Jihoon feels the heat rush to his ears, but there’s also a sense of relief that washes into them at the sight of Woojin being back to his snarky self. “Don’t kiss me. Don’t even th—”

He feels the weight of Woojin’s lips on his own. It’s the first time that he’s kissed someone, and the first time that he’s being kissed by someone. It’s unlike those dramas that he has seen, whether the lead characters fumble around and there’s an awkward bumping of noses and teeth hitting another. It’s smooth and sweet, as if their lips were made to meld against each other’s and it’s as if they had been born to kiss each other, because there’s nothing inherently awkward or rough with their kiss. It’s like all the missing pieces have begun to fall into place.

As they kiss, Jihoon feels a single hand cup the side of his cheek. It pulls him closer, _closer_ than before and then, he can feel the bed shift as he recognises the weight of Woojin falling onto him. The back of his head hit the fluffy pillows behind, and when he gasps, it’s like Woojin had been waiting for the moment all along because his tongue is in his mouth, licking at every corner and crevice of his mouth and Jihoon tastes the residual mint from his toothpaste and there’s also a certain sweetness that Jihoon commits to memory as _Woojin_.

They kiss, kiss _and_ kiss until they run out of air. When Woojin pulls back, and lets his other hand move from Jihoon’s cheek to supporting his whole weight on the bed beneath them, he sees the way Woojin’s face is flushed red, the way he pants, the way his hair is dishevelled even though it’s wet, the way his eyes are glazed in happiness and the way his lips are swollen from all the _kissing._ There’s some sort of perverse pride that Jihoon feels in the knowledge that he was the one to do this to Woojin—that he is the _only_ one who can do that to him, and he feels his heart swell up in pride.

Woojin’s gaze on him is burning, and there’s that intensity in those eyes that Jihoon has never seen before. The gaze is painfully intense and it feels like he could be swallowed up by Woojin at any moment, but if this is the way his life is going to end, then he thinks, that it’s a worthy cause. He should be afraid, but he isn’t and he thinks that he doesn’t own his own heart anymore—not when Park Woojin’s the one controlling his heartbeat.  

“Fuck,” Woojin breathes out. “I love you so much.”

If Woojin’s gaze is like fire, then Jihoon thinks, his breaths and his words are like hellfire. And Jihoon would travel to hell and back if it’s for him. So he says, “I love you too.”

 

—

 

_12 October 2017_

> _Today, you’re headed for the Philippines fan meet._

Jihoon folds the rest of the letter into the envelope in his hands. There isn’t a reason for him to read these letters anymore, not when it feels like he has effectively changed the future without Woojin in it, to one where Woojin’s _always_ going be by his side. But there’s something about them that Jihoon can’t find it himself to let go, so he tucks it in a corner of his bed, in between the mattress and the wooden pillars. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever read the rest of the letters again—his own chicken scratch—but it remains close by his side.

He turns to look at Woojin who’s smiling at him, and there’s a cardboard box in his hands. There’s a shine in his eyes, and it’s almost childlike, just like the way he used to act when his mother rewarded him with a new toy after he scored well for a test. Jihoon raises a single eyebrow, “What’s that for?”

“We had a present from fans,” Woojin explains. As Jihoon climbs down from his top bunk, Woojin also lets the box settle on the ground so that he can take out the contents. “It’s from _our_ fans, pink sausages fans.”

“Oh?”

When they open the box together, there’s a pair of matching sweaters sitting inside and also, a letter and a cute sticker photo of the fans. Jihoon feels his own face heat up at the matching sweaters. It’s so incredibly cheesy, but he wants to wear it—show off his affections for Woojin in the most subtle way they can manage. It still feels so surreal that they are actually _together_ and he thinks that it’s definitely one of the happiest moments of his life.

He feels Woojin’s gaze on him, and when he looks up, Woojin says, “Want to wear these to the airport together?”

It’s a stupid question, because when does Jihoon _ever_ say no to Woojin?

“Of course we’re wearing this together, buttface,” Jihoon presses his hands to his cheeks, and it’s a bad attempt at him trying to hide his flaming cheeks.

Woojin scoffs, but there is no spite in it and he raises his hands to pry Jihoon’s own hands away from his cheek. They are so close now, and Jihoon thinks that he can see _every_ emotion that is coursing through Woojin’s mind, from the way his eyes sparkle in happiness, from the way the sides of his mouth twitches upwards to form the brightest smile. Then, Woojin’s leaning in and he presses a short, but sweet kiss to the corner of the mouth.

“I love you, _boyfriend_.”

Jihoon wishes that he could actually move his hands, so that he could use them to cover his ears, to hide his flustered self away from Woojin. But Woojin’s grip is tight, and the only alternative he has is to avert his gaze away from the tanned male.

“Love you too, b-boyfriend,” Jihoon stutters and he feels Woojin’s fingers underneath his chin, and this time, their lips meet each other for a proper kiss.

 

 

Daehwi scoffs the moment the two of them come of the room. “Matching sweaters? How cheesy.”

Woojin walks to rub his clenched fists against the top of Daehwi’s head. There’s no spite in it, and Jihoon thinks it’s cute how they really do resemble siblings—how he and his own brother used to be like when they were younger. At the same time, Jinyoung comes out from his room and it becomes Jihoon’s turn to scoff at them.

“Ironic, seeing that it’s coming from someone who has matching jackets,” Jihoon states and it’s a joy to see how Jinyoung and Daehwi sport matching flushes.

Woojin smirks at Jihoon, “Good one.”

Behind them, Guanlin rolls his eyes, “Stupid lovebirds.”

**Author's Note:**

> ... And there you go.
> 
> I have grown incredibly attached to this AU. Just a note that the rest of the members do get letters from their future selves as well, and it was hard for me to include theirs, without it coming across to be incredibly jarring. I'll probably write the stories of the other members (especially Woojin's) in the future. We'll see how it goes! And I hope that you have enjoyed this journey as much as I did.
> 
> Hit me up on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/99izm) if you'd like to die over 2park together, or please also feel free to leave any thoughts that you have on my [CC](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink). 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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